


The Woods

by BlackDog9314



Series: Rhapsodic 'Verse Time-Stamps [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, POV Dean Winchester, Rhapsodic 'verse, time-stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/BlackDog9314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester takes comfort in a familiar hideaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> This time-stamp is set in the summer before the fall semester in which Dean and Castiel meet.  
> To read the main work these one shots are written to accompany, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2660231/chapters/5945528).

Dean made sure the bottle was secure in the stretched inside-pocket of his leather jacket as he got out of the Impala. He'd parked by the side of the road outside of the woods beyond his neighborhood.

Casting one last glance at his baby, he turned and began to make his way into the woods. The soft darkness of the shadows of trees and the hazy soundtrack of the animals living in them cloaked him only a few yards in. He knew well the paths he always took and the little markers that clued him in to where they began. Dean readjusted the bottle in his pocket after a few minutes; he found the tree he'd been looking for.

It was tall, old, and slowly rotting from the inside with a curved formation of roots at its base that served as a natural seat. Dean settled himself where he usually did, nestled within the gnarled chair the roots made. He didn't feel the bark digging into his back through his jacket as he took the cheap bottle of whiskey from his pocket and unscrewed its lid.

His father was sleeping back home and would be for a while yet, Dean knew. John had no jobs that week and had been in a foul mood, claiming his leg was hurting him more than usual and drinking twice as much using the thin excuse.

Dean slowly sipped the room-temperature liquor, hating the way it tasted and felt burning the lining of his throat. But he tempered himself.

His left arm throbbed from where John had taken a swing at him when Dean reached for the bottle now held to his lips. He knew without examining the skin that he'd have a bruise within a few hours.

Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he swore quietly to himself after lowering the bottle and hugging it between his knees. The cracked screen showed his kid-brother Sam as the caller, and Dean let it go to voice-mail after debating internally a few rings. His brother texted him a few minutes later.

_You wanna come to Bobby's for dinner tonight? He's makin homemade mac n cheese =)_

Dean waited a long time before responding.

_I already made dinner for me n dad. Sorry bro. Ill come see u later this week._

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Dean ground his teeth and took another swig of the whiskey. All he and John had in the pantry were a few beers and an old, half-empty bag of stale tortilla chips. He'd checked earlier.

Dean didn't get paid for a few more days; he'd likely spend the rest of his evening hustling pool in the Road House and then making a gas-station run when he had enough for some bread, cheese, coffee and Ramen.

Luckily, the summer was only a few weeks old. There were many hours to be had at Jimmy's Diner in town before his fall semester began.

Dean stood up from his low perch almost an hour later, a little buzzed from what had been left of the bottle. Stretching carefully to avoid hurting his shoulder, Dean ran his hands through his short hair and yawned. It wasn't yet seven o'clock yet. He had time.

As Dean bundled the bottle back up in his jacket and readjusted his jeans and the hem of his shirt, the familiar carving in the trunk of the tree caught his eye.

It was faded with weather and time, but still perfectly legible.

_Dean Winchester was hear_

_ & baby Sammy 2._

He stared at the childish scrawl for a moment, remembering the day he'd made the carving over fourteen years before. It'd been the first time Dean, his father and Sam had lived in the small college town.

Sam had been almost two-and-a-half and Dean months away from seven.

 

_“Sammy, put your arms around my neck so I can pick you up.”_

_“Is Daddy mad?”_

_“A little.”_

_“He's scary.”_

_“Only to me, Sammy. 'Kay?”_

_“Okay, D.”_

 

Dean shook his head and withdrew the bottle from his jacket after a second thought, throwing it against a nearby stump and watching as it shattered. The falling shards reflected the orange, yellow and red of the sunset sneaking in through the tops of the trees, and Dean thought fleetingly of fire.

 


End file.
